Seventy-One Questions

Once upon a time, I served on staff at a Christian boarding high school that was home to teenagers from across the country and around the globe. I loved these young people, and I loved the part-time work—activities director, cheerleading coach, overseer of community service.

And then circumstances changed and I needed a full-time job that paid well and carried benefits. I ended up in the Human Resources department of a large insurance company. It was soul-killing work. No creativity required. Eight hours a day in a small cubicle with artificial light.

Through the years, we had gotten into the habit of logging in every expenditure. I now sat at our computer, wondering where I could squeeze something out of the columns of numbers that were already stretched tight. Everything we had invested in and saved for our retirement years was now lost to us.

In an ancient story, a man named Job lost his health, his wealth, and his ten children within a short period of time. His wife’s best advice was to curse God and die. Three of Job’s friends arrived to sit on the ground with him in silence and acknowledgement of his suffering (Job 2:13).

After a week was exhausted, the friends began sermonizing. In essence, they said, “Surely you must have done something wrong to have all this happen to you.” Job gave a defense to his friends, and then reminded God of all the good he (Job) had done and how he had once been honored in the public square.

Then it was God’s turn to speak. By my count, God asked 71 questions of Job: “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundations?” “Have you entered the storehouses of the snow or seen the storehouses of the hail?” “Do you send the lightning bolts on their way?” “Do you give the horse its strength or clothe its neck with a flowing mane?” “Do you have an arm like God’s, and can your voice thunder like his?” (Job, chapters 38-40)

Seventy. One. Questions.

After which Job repented with these words:

“Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.” – Job 42:3

I was Job.

As loss stacked upon loss, I reminded my heavenly Father of all we had done for him. “God,” I whined, “why are we being punished?” I knew this wasn’t sound theology, but my emotions often won out over my faith in those early days. When God first invited us into that wilderness place—thirteen disheartening years beginning with my husband’s unemployment and including cancer and widowhood—it felt uncaring and harsh. I resisted. I wallowed in self-pity. I was frustrated and angry at times.

Job’s emotions and responses and reasonings were mine in those beginning weeks of wilderness school as I dragged my heels and showed up late for class. But like Job, I spoke of things I did not understand, too wonderful for me to know.

From my current vantage point, I never could have imagined how God would take my losses and sorrows and bring me to this place with Dan and Foundry Church and new purpose.

Speaking from experience, an invitation into the wild, desolate places is never meant as punishment. It’s an invitation to fall deeper into intimacy and love with our Creator God.